


Sea Ice and White Noise

by fandomscolliding



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice, Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomscolliding/pseuds/fandomscolliding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Drake was all sorts of things. But he wasn’t a coward, which is why Conner couldn’t understand why he never called him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea Ice and White Noise

He was like a wave, or thunder; some great force crashing against the earth and the sky. He was like something they used to tell stories about, huddled around fires in the dead of winter, nothing but words keeping the howling wind at bay. He was a god and a demon, death the destroyer of worlds just as he was the source of infinite and eternal life. 

At least that’s how he seemed to Conner. Tim Drake was all sorts of things. But he wasn’t a coward, which is why he couldn’t understand why he never called him. I mean, he was back, like, from the dead. He had transcended time and space and life and death to come back. And truth be told, he had expected more. He had always lived in awe of Tim, fearing him like he was an angry god and loving him like he was his saving grace.   
Tim, though, was like sea ice. Beautiful, wonderful, but always adrift, salt water and winter wind carving channels and spires into its body, so that everything above the waterline was whittled away to almost nothing, and everything that mattered was in the murky depths; but that was more likely to sink you in the end.

In either case, Tim was like a glacier, never really belonging to anyone or anything. Pieces of himself were presented like gifts to certain people—Bruce, Dick, Bart, Cass—but never the entirety of his soul. 

Conner though, Conner thought he was different. He was Tim’s Clone Boy and Tim was his Robin. They were best friends, bound by blood—both their own and others—and by love and pain, and Conner had thought that there was nothing that could have ripped them apart; not time or distance, and certainly not death.  
And yet, here he was. He had seen Tim, of course. That one time. And Tim had seemed happy—overjoyed even, as if some piece of himself had come back; at least, that’s how Conner felt.

But here he was, two weeks later, sitting on his bed back in Smallville, trying his best not to throw the baseball he was tossing through the ceiling. His phone was silent in a way that seemed like noise, and Tim still hadn’t called. 

You see, Tim used to do this thing sometimes, back when he was still Robin, after Jason came back and he wasn’t really sure what to do with himself. He used to talk to Conner—not face to face, mind you, or even over the phone. No, he’d lay in his bed in Gotham, and he’d say things he could never say to anybody, even with the mask on. He’d just talk and Conner would listen. The next time they’d meet they’d never mention it, but Tim would smile at him in that way that was reserved for his Clone Boy, and Conner would help him shoulder the weight of things unsaid. 

Now, though, there was not a peep from him. Not the whisper of his name or words spoken at night; it was like he was the enemy and Tim was trying to encode every message that he sent.

He’d come around, Conner hoped, someday. If it wasn’t soon, Conner would fly to Gotham, Batman be damned and give that boy a good talking to. And maybe he’d tell him everything he’s been bottling up. Maybe he’d tell him how much he missed him, how he could sometimes feel death like a chill against his skin. Maybe he’d say how scared he had been, how in that moment he would have given anything to go back and trade every wasted day for another hour with him. Maybe he’d say how much he needs Tim, more than Tim ever needed him. And if he was feeling brave, he might even tell him how hopelessly in love with him he was.


End file.
